<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>He won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you by Thalissa</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953087">He won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalissa/pseuds/Thalissa'>Thalissa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, just two bros in a car, suna can't drive, sunaosa day</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:53:53</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,041</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26953087</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thalissa/pseuds/Thalissa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Suna shifts gears, the vehicle gaining speed on the road. His hands are bigger than Osamu’s, his fingers longer. Osamu would really like to hold his hand.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Suna through Osamu's eyes, and a quiet car ride.<br/>[happy SunaOsa day!]</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miya Osamu/Suna Rintarou</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>He won't tell you that he loves you, but he loves you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy SunaOsa day y'all!!! Sorry for the angst-y 1k drabble, it's not my fault, it's just the <a href="https://twitter.com/hqpairquotes?s=11">hqrarepairbot</a> inspires me to write either angst or sad things (and yes, I love it &lt;3) So yeah I have no excuses I just like a pining Osamu, enjoy! Starting quote from a beautiful poem by Richard Siken, please check it out!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>You're in a car with a beautiful boy, and he won't tell you that he loves you,<span class="Apple-converted-space"> <br/>
</span></em>
  <em>but he loves you. And you feel like you've done something terrible.</em>
</p><p> </p><p>Suna just got his driving license, so they have taken to driving aimlessly through the city at night.No destination in mind, just wasting gas. There aren’t a lot of cars out, so they can pretend Suna doesn’t release the clutch too soon after every stop sign. They should be studying, but the last days of high school are slipping through their fingers like cold water. In these nights, they can pretend it’s all still the same: they still play volleyball, they still attend the same classes, they still go home together. It’s a stasis destined to crumble, taken away by the new spring just behind the horizon. Osamu looks to his right. Suna is casted in shadows, but his face becomes more visible for a second as they pass under another streetlight. It doesn’t matter, Osamu could trace his face by memory alone, while blinded and with his hands behind his back. His long eyelashes, the default bored expression, the way his hair curl a bit behind his ears. His narrow eyes, the upturned nose, the grayish irises that spark with amusement, but only if you know how to read them. Osamu can, because he found there is nothing mysterious about Suna Rintarou, not for him. They are cut from the same cloth, or maybe Osamu is just <em>that</em> gifted in the understanding of one single existence. He find he doesn’t care about the others, just being able to understand this one is enough for him.</p><p>Suna shifts gears, the vehicle gaining speed on the road. His hands are bigger than Osamu’s, his fingers longer. Osamu would really like to hold his hand.The music on the radio is a foreign pop song, and its upbeat notes fill the silent car. The silence is still comfortable, because neither of them have a tendency to speak very much. Osamu only raises his voice at his brother; Suna just speaks when he’s bothered enough to do so. Osamu continues to stare at him. Like this, he can pretend they’re driving together with a destination in mind. Like this, Osamu can pretend he’s not lingering to their last days together, just postponing the inevitable, dragging his feet just to indulge himself. It’s bittersweet, maybe more bitter than anything else, but just that tiny tip of sweetness for him it’s enough; all this is worth it. He should know, he’s planning to open a cooking business a few years down the line. He wonders where Suna will be in said few years. Maybe taking to storm the volleyball world with his brother. The thought shouldn’t fill him with pride, but it does. Suna can deceive anyone else, saying that a career in pro volley is a job like another, and he happens to be passable enough at it so he’s going for it, but he can’t mislead Osamu. Suna has that same hunger brimming behind his bored complexion, he has the same fire burning in his eyes that Osamu himself lacked. He’s not a nutcase like his brother, sure, but… that’s just another perk, in Osamu’s opinion.</p><p>It doesn’t matter, not really. They will go their separate ways, nothing really tying them together. Osamu really likes him. He loves him, even, if he’s man enough to admit it to himself. He doesn’t know what love is —he wonders if anyone <em>does</em> know what it is— but he has come to associate it with the way Suna looks at him, sometimes, and in the way his heartbeat speeds up accordingly. In the way Suna offers him one of his orange-flavoured chuupets after practice, or in the way the silence between them feels like peace and companionship. Yeah, Osamu loves him. It’a quiet, soundless love. It doesn’t need much space, but it still feels consuming. Sometimes Osamu can’t look at him and still feel his feet touching the ground.</p><p>Yeah, Osamu loves Suna, but Suna doesn’t love him. After all, he can read it in his eyes. It doesn’t matter, his love still doesn’t make a sound, and it won’t see the light of day.Maybe, if he were different, he would try to do something about it. Confess, maybe. Try to woo Suna, as ridiculous as that sound. But as things stand now, there’s no point; both of them are pragmatic people, after all. So he just goes on looking, hoping to commit these nights to memory. Tonight, Suna is wearing his favourite jacket, and even this makes Osamu’s heart miss a beat. His love just keeps beating and beating against his ribcage, but still no one can hear a sound. He’s in a car with a beautiful boy, and he would like to stop time, and bask in the evening’s light, and pretend that this very beautiful boy looks at him with a bit of love in his eyes. Just a bit, just a smudge, enough to make his love heard. He’s in a car with a beautiful boy, and every fibre of his being screams of love, and longing, and yearning, but just at night, when it’s easier to hide it. It’s a stupid love —what does he even <em>know</em> about love— but love all the same, his heart says so. He looks at Suna, and looks, and his heart goes <em>ba-dum</em>, and <em>ba-dum</em>. Time goes on, and it slips through his fingers just like the end of his high school days.</p><p>“Something on my face?” Suna asks, his eyes never leaving the road. His voice is a bit rough, a bit quiet, and a lot like the last sound Osamu would like to hear at the end of his days.</p><p>He doesn’t know what to do, with all this love. He’s overflowing with it, and Suna doesn’t notice. He’s drowning, because he doesn’t know how to swim very well, and he’s just a prey of the currents. It’s a childish love, his first love. It will come and pass. It doesn’t mean it hurts any less.Osamu inhales, exhales. Another streetlight casts lights and shadows on Suna’s jaw.</p><p>“No, nothing”. Osamu looks away.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would like to revise/expand this concept at one point, also the poem is longer and gives me ideas (I'm just tired at the moment, and apparently incapable of breaking the 2k barrier, so there). I also hope I did the maths right for suna acquiring his driving license at the end of high school but probably not really oh well.</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>